


If There's A Lock...

by Charlie_Parker



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Reader is a total freak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 22:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14680698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_Parker/pseuds/Charlie_Parker
Summary: The reader is moving in with John. What happens when he stumbles across a box with the reader's more intimate accessories?





	If There's A Lock...

You had moved in with John after he went on the run from literally the entire world. You weren’t about to leave a friend high and dry, so you both went out looking for dog friendly places to set up what would be known as ‘home’. You had been an assassin but hadn’t been good enough to really let it stick on you the way it had for John. He had taught you a few things and you had taken down a few targets but in the end, you only really had gotten into it for the ‘aesthetic’. Instead, you got a job at a photography studio, hoping to start your own as soon as you got the startup capital.  
“You know, you really don’t have to do this.” John reminded you, only moments before signing a lease that would flush away all your money you had saved up to start the ‘Shot and Captured’ studio.  
“I know, but I would be a shitty friend if I didn’t.”  
“You would be a normal friend if you didn’t.”  
“Come on, John, when have I ever been average anything?”  
He gave you a warm smile and you thought he was leaning towards you when you felt a mass of muscle just pass between the two of you. The dog John had adopted decided he would set up shop in the new apartment before any of you could beat him to the punch.  
Within the week you two were lugging boxes, getting what was left of your stuff (since John’s was just ashes and a dog) into the apartment. Walking back down in the street to the van you had rented, John was looking into a box not sure what to think of it “Uh, hey, Y/N?”  
“Yeah, Joh- oh god no.” He was looking inside the box with all of your kinky gear.  
“What room do you want this in?” John’s face was flushed red. You’d never seen him more uneasy.  
“Just uh...knock it under the sink in the bathroom. I’ll find a place for it later.”  
“Okay.” He walked away so fast it was almost as if he was stealing it.  
When all the boxes were brought up, John was waiting for you in the kitchen with a mug of coffee. He had already inflated the mattress for the night, gotten out both of your clothes for the night, toiletries, the coffee maker, and two mugs.  
“You’re an angel.” You groaned tiredly, your feet trudging to the kitchen and taking up the cup in your hands, reaching over on your tiptoes and placing a kiss on his cheek.  
He hummed in appreciation, the awkwardness from earlier completely evaporated with the soothing warmth of the CVS brand coffee. You sputtered out “John, I love you and all but you can’t make coffee for shit.”  
“Yeah, I know. So ungrateful.” He pinched your side teasingly, but all he could really think of was what you had said before that: you love him. Of course, he had suspected you had feelings for him for a while now, but the idea that you cared enough to love him and to proclaim it as casually as you had meant more to John than he would let on.  
“Is the water running?”  
He nodded “Yeah.”  
“Did you want to take the first shower?”  
“Be my guest.” He gave you a small smile, watching you walk off with your pajamas and soap. When you were gone, he muttered to himself between gritted teeth “Snap out of it, Wick.” Why was he allowing himself to think of you as a permanent harbor when time and time again it was proven that everything was temporary?  
He lost it when you walked out of the shower- ratty pajama pants and a frayed shirt that wasn’t originally meant for sleeping in but was too soft to let it pass on its true purpose. You were just drying your hair out with a towel when you felt him press you up against the wall, his lips meeting yours in a fiery exchange. What was he doing? You certainly didn’t expect it. The guy had lost his wife in all but five months. Despite your questions and reservations, all that came out was a “John?” whispered between panting breaths.  
“Hmm?”  
“I know it’s a bad idea, but seeing as it’s almost one in the morning and neither of us is going to get the sleep we need anyway...we could have sex?”  
His deep laugh and cunning smile kept you going until he found your handcuffs from the box from earlier “You want to use those?” You smiled, naked and wet hair inadvisably splayed around your head on the inflatable mattress.  
“Yes.”  
“Do it.” You offered up your wrists and kept your arms above your head after that. It was a second after he clicked the handcuffs together that you remembered: “Wait, did you find the keys too?”  
“What keys?”


End file.
